


Rivets

by KillTheDirector



Series: Chemical Cocktail [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Female Q, Impending Death, The Chemical Garden Trilogy Universe, this may or may not become part of a series, wow this hurts more than expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheDirector/pseuds/KillTheDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's young and brilliant, something that the dry husk they call a planet needs. She smokes cigarettes down to the filter, claims that tea has replaced her blood and curls up next to him, skin prickling with gooseflesh even though she's tugged away the comforter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivets

Q watched the dull lights of London blink sluggishly as she took a long drag from the cigarette resting between two slender fingers; she curled her thin legs up to her chest, shifting on the window seat cushion to find a more comfortable position and tugged slightly at the expensive white button down hastily thrown on her body. Her ears perked when she picked up the sound of Bond ( _James_ he reminded her, watching as she would fiddle with the wedding band that glinted on her finger) shuffling out of bed. 

Q's suspicions were confirmed when the man strode from the bedroom, lazy in his dark pants no doubt tugged on as an afterthought; she flicked the cigarette butt out of the cracked window and studied Bond as he moved gracefully though her living area, acquainted with the flat almost as well as she was. Her fingers moved to the wedding band again, twisting it around and around her finger as the man ( _her husband, she was a bride; a girl of sixteen sold off to a wealthy just-bordering-on-the-cusp First Generation who allowed her to have her own flat_ ) prepared breakfast. 

Ice blue eyes glanced up from the task of heating a pan, meeting grey-green through thick glasses. "How many eggs do you want?" Q's fingers ceased fiddling with her ring.

"None, I'm not hungry." The corner of his mouth turned downwards in a moue of disapproval (whenever they were in bed together, he would comment on her skinniness, mouth lingering over jutting hipbones). Q sighed lightly, rolling her eyes and hopping from the window seat bench to join him in the kitchen.

They set to a familiar rhythm, moving around one another easily; Bond cooked his own breakfast while Q prepared beverages (coffee, black for him, tea, milk no sugar for her). Q glanced over at her husband of four months, studying his profile and noting the slight crookedness of the bridge of his nose and the light spattering of age lines criss-crossing over his cheeks with some sort of vague feeling of fondness. Bond looked up from flipping his egg, eyebrow raised in question; they shifted an inch closer to one another, elbows bumping. 

"...why did you pick me? Why pick anyone? You don't even want children." She hadn't meant to ask, fingers tightening around the two mugs she had procured from the cabinet a few moments ago. Q noted the tense line of Bond's shoulders, a muscle twitch in the line of his jaw; she wanted to slap him and sooth him at the same time, drifting between fondness and distaste. He sighed roughly, plating the egg and grabbed his toast. 

"I'm lonely." Bond took a large bite of toast, ending the discussion; Q glowered lightly, grabbing their mugs full of their respective beverages and sat across from him at her tiny kitchen table. 

The silence dragged, broken only by sounds of consumption; Bond ignored Q's accusing gaze thrown over the rim of her mug. He cradled his mug between his large hands, staring down into the dark liquid for a moment before meeting her eyes. "I know you're going to die in four years." Q flinched minutely at the reminder of her shortening clock and took a long sip of her tea. Bond pursed his lips but sighed, shoulders slumping. "It was impulsive of me to--"

"Buy me." He ran a hand down his face at Q's sharp interruption, nodding slightly.

"I'm a House Governor, a First-Generation brat who was expected to get a wife early enough that we could start producing children. I spent my life ignoring those expectations, getting my fill of human contact through Red Districts, then it was 'politely' suggested by a colleague that I get a bride and fulfill my duty to society." He rolled his eyes largely at his last statement which caused Q's mouth to quirk up unbidden. He lifted his gaze, electric blue tracing her youthful jaw line, smooth skin, her once inexperienced mouth. "But then I saw you fighting tooth and nail, about to be shot because you wouldn't _shut up_...I realized that I needed you." 

Bond fell silent and stared down at his hands, barely lined with age; Q felt her fingers twitch and she reached out, tracing a vein that branched out like a tree over the top of his hand. He turned his palm up, twining their fingers together. The touch was familiar, normally confined to the nights spent together, his hands holding hers as he whispered _I'm sorry_ over and over again against the flesh of her neck. 

He pulled away, detangling their fingers in order to place his plate in the sink. Q bit the inside of her cheek and stood, wrapping her thin arms around his waist and rested her forehead between his shoulder blades. "I'll never come to love you..." His actions faltered slightly, but he remained silent; Q breathed a soft sigh against the skin of his back. "I don't have _time_...but, I don't _hate_ you." Wet hands cupped her own thin ones, a calloused finger tracing her wedding band. 

"I'm sorry." Bond said quietly, not turning, but not pulling away. 

"You've apologized enough." Their nights together were laced with apologizes. He was sorry that she had been snatched off the streets, sorry that he had bought her and forced her into a marriage; he was sorry that he was falling in love with her when her expiration date was in four years. Sorry sorry _sorry_. Q rolled up onto her tip toes, pressing a dry kiss to the back of Bond's neck before pulling away, feeling cold but ignoring it.

**Author's Note:**

> Universe based around this book
> 
> http://thechemicalgardenbooks.com/wither/


End file.
